


an ode to the new year

by StrangerInAStrangeLand



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting, get ready, have something kinda cute, i'm gonna be focusing on sickfics next year, yeah i'm a sickfic account now so what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22057351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerInAStrangeLand/pseuds/StrangerInAStrangeLand
Summary: Despite a pounding headache and overwhelming nausea telling him not to go, Stephen went to the Avengers' New Year's Eve party.
Relationships: Scott Lang/Stephen Strange
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	an ode to the new year

**Author's Note:**

> hiya! i'm back for one last fic of the year lol. i know i didn't fulfill as many promises as i said i would, but my new year's resolution is to focus on them more.
> 
> also i'm starting a sickfic account. once i get my next sickfic up i'll link it. enjoy!

10 minutes in and Stephen's head was already spinning. 

He should've stayed home. He knew that completely. Zelma told him to stay at the Sanctum. Wong told him to go to bed. But here he was, drinking some sickening wine in the Avengers' HQ while trying not to ruin his best suit. 

The neon lights blinded him, the increasingly loud music was giving him a headache, and despite it being winter, he felt like he was being cooked alive. While the rest of his fellow heroes danced the night away, he struggled to take a step forward without falling over. 

"You made it!" A familiar voice yelled, making his headache even worse. Stephen turned around, leaning against a table for support, as Tony Stark made his way to him. "Didn't think you'd come." 

_ Me neither. _ "I missed the Christmas party, I had no choice," he joked, struggling to hold a smile. 

"Man you won't believe what Steve just said..." Tony said, slipping into a story. Stephen tried to stay invested in whatever he was saying, but everything was distracting him. The lights, the way the scenery moved, even the smell. The music drowned out his conversation, and suddenly Stephen was swept into a daze. 

The colors around him continuously shifted with dizzying effects. All the sounds in the room seemed to be closing in on him, each getting louder and louder by the second. He wanted to close his eyes to block everything out, to yell at everyone and everything to be quiet, but he didn't want to make a scene. The nausea began to increase with every vertigo-inducing strobe light. Stephen took a sip from his wine to try and calm himself down, but it didn't help. 

"Hey, Strange?" 

He snapped back into reality, swaying a bit. Had he been hyperventilating? He hadn't noticed. He slowed down his breathing and swallowed thickly. 

"You okay?" Tony followed up. "You look pale...well, paler than usual." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he cut him off, not wanting to hear his voice at the moment. His half-empty wine glass shook in his hand. Bile began to rise in his throat. "I just...need to step aside." 

He walked past him quickly, not bothering to listen for a response. He disappeared into the hallways, away from the music and the lights, yearning for just a second of silence. Miraculously, he somehow found a bathroom in the midst of his panic, surprisingly empty. 

He rushed into the stall, placing his wine glass near the sink, and fell to his knees as his wine made a reappearance. He heaved painfully, clutching to the bowl for dear life. When all was said and done (for now) he closed his eyes and fell into the wall exhaustedly. 

_ Just 10 minutes alone, then I'll go back… _

Before he could pass out, he heard the door open again. 

_ Dammit. _

"Woah, you okay?" 

Opening his eyes ever so slightly, Stephen began to turn to the concerned voice, only for a sudden wave of nausea to wash over him. He turned back to the toilet as his stomach lurched and he was back to choking up bile. 

He shouldn't have come. He should've just stayed home and be sick in private, but here he was, looking like a mess in front of his teammates. 

When he was reduced to dry heaving, he collapsed back into the wall, barely managing to look at the man behind him. 

"No." 

He looked up at him and was met face-to-face with an understandably worried Scott Lang, of all people. Embarrassment welled in his stomach. He never worked with him that much, only heard about him through debriefings. So much for making a good first impression. 

Surprisingly, Scott didn't seem to put off by his current state. He kneeled down next to him, making sure he was awake enough to look him in the eye, and smiled awkwardly. 

"Too much wine?" 

Somehow, Stephen was...charmed by the comment. It could've been the delirium talking, but he managed to smile back. 

"Perfectly fine amount of wine," he rasped. "I'm just...kind of under the weather at the moment." 

Confusion flashed across Scott's face. He expected that. Frankly, he was just as confused as him. 

_ Why did you come here? _

"Then why did you come here?" 

The answer should have been simple. "I wanted to come." But for some reason, Stephen found himself contemplating that question longer than he thought he would. The conclusion he came to was one he never even thought about. 

_ I didn't want to be alone. _

He shouldn't have come. By all accounts, he shouldn't have come. He didn't even want to come that much. He preferred quieter environments, like the Sanctum. 

But if he listened to everyone around him, if he listened to  _ himself _ , he'd just be stuck in his bed all night. All by himself. 

"Got an invitation," he said at last, fatigue tainting his voice. "Missed the Christmas party. Wanted to be polite." 

"Do you want me to take you home?" Scott asked immediately. 

He appreciated the gesture, but that was the last thing he wanted to do right now. 

"No, no...I'm fine..." he insisted. 

He lingered in silence for a second, too exhausted to move. The thing that broke the silence was a flush of the toilet, courtesy of Scott. If he could muster enough energy to speak, he would've asked if he was always this nice with people puking their guts out. 

"How about we find you somewhere to sit down? You know, somewhere that's not the men's bathroom." Scott asked, taking his hands. Stephen flinched at the sudden contact. He looked at him, wordlessly asking for permission. Eventually, Stephen let him take his hands and help him up. 

He thought about it for a moment as he got up, but was ready to just say no and return to the party grounds. But before he knew it, his knees gave out once again and he almost fell to the ground until Scott caught him just in time. All he could do was groan in response. 

Scott nodded, lifting his arm around his neck, and proceeded to help him out of the bathroom. 

"Let's go." 

* * *

Somehow, they made it to the medbay without anyone noticing them. Stephen managed to lie down on one of the cots, nausea subsiding for a moment, as Scott took his temperature. 

He examined him as he waited for the thermometer to register. No matter what, he was always patient with him. He didn't rush the process, nor did he seem annoyed to care for him. Something about that just made Stephen feel...comforted. 

The thermometer beeped. Scott grabbed it out of his mouth, eyes widening almost comically upon examining it. 

"102°?" he asked, incredulously. He looked back at Stephen, who could only respond with a shrug. "How are you still alive?" 

"Persistence. Durability. Arrogance." 

Scott chuckled, sending Stephen's heart aflutter. Or that could've been his stomach. Who knows? 

"You should get some sleep," Scott said, covering Stephen with a blanket. "Are you sure you want to stay? I can tell Tony you're not feeling well--" 

"No, no, no. Go. Enjoy yourself," he replied immediately, lifting a hand to playfully shoo him out of the room. "I'm sorry for keeping you occupied." 

Scott gave him a sympathetic smile and hesitantly began to leave. 

"You don't have to apologize for being sick." 

He turned off the lights and closed the door, leaving Stephen alone. But he wasn't as disappointed as he usually was when loneliness came. It was hard to tell because of the raging fever, but his stomach felt...warm. Happy. 

Relaxing under the blanket, he smiled to himself as he finally fell asleep. 

* * *

When he woke up, fireworks were going off. 

Stephen opened his eyes slowly, thankful that his migraine had lessened, and looked around the darkness. He was alone, and it was midnight. 

Happy New Year to him. 

He got up, still uneasy in his steps, and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was that the music had quieted (thank Vishanti). Slowly making his way to the main HQ, he wondered where Scott would be. 

Maybe he'd be on the couch, enjoying himself. Maybe he left already. Either way, he had to thank him for helping him not make a fool out of himself in front of everyone. 

When he got to the HQ, everyone was either watching the fireworks, or passed out on the floor. He stepped over a few fallen bodies, quickly making sure they didn't have alcohol poisoning, searching for Scott. The lights had softened, making the room almost as dark as the medbay. Right as he was about to lose hope, he looked out the patio and saw just the man of the hour. 

He walked over, opened the glass door, and made his way next to him. Scott looked at him, grinned softly, and looked back up at the sky. 

"It's midnight already?" Stephen asked, looking up at the sky as well. The world seemed to be lit up with beautiful sparks of color, accompanied by roars of celebration for the new year. It was lovely, even if it began to make his head spin again. 

"Yep," Scott replied. "Welcome to the new decade, Doctor Strange." 

Stephen looked at him, confused. 

"You know my name?" He asked, noticing the scotch glass in his hand for the first time. 

"Of course!" He chirped, turning to him with a drunken laugh. "We're both Avengers, after all. I was actually looking forward to meeting you here, honestly." 

Stephen blushed. He had been thinking about him before he even met him. 

"I didn't really make a good impression, did I?" He asked, mustering an awkward chuckle. 

"I wouldn't say that. I enjoyed our time." 

Scott turned away from the fireworks, gazing into Stephen's eyes. Silence fell upon them, only punctuated by the constant fireworks. They leaned into each other, smiling like teenagers. Scott was drunk, Stephen is feverish, but they somehow knew what they wanted at the moment. 

Suddenly, they were kissing. 

The world seemed to stop. Time paused. At first, Stephen felt like all his questions about the universe had been answered. Like everything he had ever wanted was this one kiss. 

He pulled away a few moments later, bashful. Scott coughed awkwardly. Neither of them knew how to respond to that. 

It was quick. It was sweet. And it was  _ good _ . 

The first one to break the silence was Stephen.

"I'm...I'm sick," he said. And just like that, it seemed like his sickness had returned. He swallowed thickly, suppressing a mix of embarrassment and bile. "We probably shouldn't have done that." 

"I'm glad we did, though," Scott added. The two shared a laugh, intertwining their fingers. "Do you want to go back to bed? You feel warm." 

"No, no. I'm perfectly fine now, thanks," Stephen insisted, rubbing the back of his neck. Granted, he was right, he  _ did _ feel awfully warm. "Are you going home later?" 

"No, I had too much to drink," he said, shaking his scotch glass. He turned around, walking back into the HQ. "Tony offered to let me crash here for the night." 

Stephen followed him inside, but once he entered, an overwhelming wave of vertigo washed over him. Before he could register what was happening, his knees buckled and he fell to the ground. 

"Stephen?" Scott asked, turning around. Once he saw him collapsed, he rushed to his side. The few guests that were still conscious turned their heads to them. 

Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but his words were cut off by a gag. A stream of bile splattered to the floor. Scott grabbed his shoulder, trying to help him up, but Stephen just sank further into the ground. 

"Tony let you crash?" He muttered exhaustedly. Scott nodded, concerned. A delirious grin appeared on Stephen's face, followed by a giggle. "I might do the same." 

And then he blacked out. 

* * *

"Ugh…" 

Stephen came to hours later on the couch of the HQ, drowned in his own sweat. A cold rag was plastered on his forehead, slightly relieving his fever. 

"Strange? Are you still alive?" 

And almost immediately, his migraine had returned. 

"Stark?" Stephen weakly opened his eyes to see the man staring down at him, holding a cup of coffee. 

Tony rubbed his forehead, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the light from the window. "Why the hell didn't you tell us you were sick?" 

Oh right. He passed out. In front of  _ everyone _ . 

"What?" He replied, trying to play dumb. He was too tired to deal with this right now. 

"I mean, you were running a 104° fever last night!" Tony exclaimed. "I didn't even know that was possible. You passed out in the middle of the party. I just thought you were drunk, but Scott--"

"Scott?" He asked, memories beginning to rush through his head. He sat up, trying to ignore his headache, and looked around. "Is he still here?" 

Tony lifted an eyebrow at his sudden reaction. "No? He left a few hours ago. As I was saying--"

He was cut off by a groan, not induced by illness, but rather disappointment. As if he  _ wanted _ Scott to be there. "Do you know his address?" 

Tony was taken aback by his sudden eagerness.  _ Someone _ made a new friend, apparently. 

"...San Francisco," he dismissed him quickly. Setting down his coffee cup on the table, he took the sorcerer's shoulders and lowered him back into the couch. "How about you just lie back down? Get some more rest. I called your roommate, told him you'd be staying the night. We have some aspirin, some tea, and a bagel." 

Stephen's eyes gazed at the contents on the table with boredom. Tony grabbed a trash can from behind the table and placed it in front of him. 

"And here's a bin. Y'know, in case you need to get sick again. Don't do it on my couch this time." 

"M'sorry," he mumbled half-heartedly. He pulled the blanket further over his body, trying to get comfortable. "San Francisco..." 

Tony watched as Stephen's eyes finally closed again. 

"You owe me a new carpet," he said. He patted him on the shoulder. "Sleep tight." 

He retreated to his own quadrant to get over his own headache. But not before leaving a slip of paper with Scott's phone number right next to the aspirin. 

Stephen could figure out what to do when he could keep everything in his stomach down.

**Author's Note:**

> here's to a brand new decade


End file.
